Aftereffect, p.19
Aftereffect, page 19
I suppose this form is an example of that. Why though?
I waste no time phasing into the Oshi. It is dark, but the speakers overhead crackle as I step onto the bridge.
“Welcome back, Lex.”
I phase through the door towards the main corridor. “Where is Oren?”
There is a momentary pause. “Both he and Danica are stabilizing the core.”
I quickly make my way down several levels in time to see them both talking outside the main doors. Danica is standing in very human attire–jeans and sweatshirt–while Oren looks just as I left him.
“I should go. I can begin the stabilization process while you set a course home.” He sighs. “It’s the best way we can do this. You’re better at flying the ship than I am.”
She shakes her head. “It’s suicide for one of us either way and I think this is what I should do. My head won’t stop pounding.”
I take several steps towards them, but neither have sensed my presence. “Prepare a short-term jump then shut down the core and ready the self-destruct conditions.”
The AI beeps. “Confirmed.”
Both Oren and Danica turn to face me now. It takes a moment for their eyes to adjust below the visible spectrum.
Danica takes a step towards me. “Lex?”
I nod. “We’re returning with Traven on the Umbra.”
Oren pauses. “But the Oshi–our work…”
“Is lost. Grab what you can and meet me on the bridge.”
He nods. “Yes, of course.”
No arguments. I’m glad he took our earlier talk to heart. Both Danica and Oren hurry off, and I am left in the corridor for a long moment. This ship–this core–has taken us many places and now its journey is complete. I move forward, put one hand on the door, and pause. “Thank you.”
One should always honour the tools that saved their lives. Without them life would be much much shorter.
A chunk of rock floats by the sealed-off sections in the bridge, as both Danica and Oren enter with one pack each.
“It almost feels like we wasted our time.” She opens her bag and pulls out some fabric. “And for what? A few blankets and a bottle of sauce.”
Oren turns. “That’s what you’re bringing?”
She nods. “Textiles are quite rare.”
“And that?”
She holds up a bottle of Sriracha. “I thought Lex might like it.” Oren’s face shifts for a moment, but then turns to his own haul. “And what did you grab?”
He sighs and holds up a familiar pink Gameboy. “Just this, and as much cola as I could fit in this thing.”
I smile and remain silent.
These really are my machines.
I move closer to the lockdown field and look out into space. Scanners show a Menth ship leaving Earth’s orbit, but I pay it no attention.
Choices–we’ve all made them and now we experience the aftereffects.
“Danica, activate the core.”
She nods. “Of course.”
I take a moment to feel the atmosphere of the ship one last time as the core activates. Each molecule breaks down and reforms. Life out of death–or a form of it anyway. As we re-materialize I find myself standing in the middle of an unfamiliar bridge. Both Danica and Oren move close to the nearest station.
“Lex, welcome aboard the Umbra.” Traven motions towards the chair next to them. “Are you ready?”
I take a seat. “Of course.”
“Then to Zairon.”
“To Zairon.”
The core emits a subtle hum and then it is silent–peaceful even.
Home.
That word resonates more than it has in a long time.
EPILOGUE
TRAVEN
THERE ARE DAYS WHEN I WONDER IF THE RIPPLES OF TIME ARE SEEN FOR WHAT THEY ARE–impactful moments destined to shape the future. To the untrained eye they seem insignificant, but the truth is always in hindsight. We are all blips in a greater story, and one with scope beyond what many are able to fathom.
Guardians don’t see time as linear–it is a web carefully woven to maintain order. To us, the relationship between cause and effect is central to everything. Even now we observe the reason–record the why–especially when it is dangerous to do so. When called, we look out for our own kind. Alone, we are scouts first and foremost.
This galaxy is changing into something I’ve only seen a handful of times, and even then those ended up being disappointments.
“And this is correct?” Vander–the being in front of me is formless–much like a star finding its shape. They are neither Zpectrite or alien; they just are.
I nod, my form is still relatively humanoid. “The humans are divided.”
“And the Menthiopods are digging.”
I look off into the distance and focus my energy on the transparent screen between us. My essence transmits images from my memory. “The humans on the station are being assimilated, as with other cultures who have accepted the bargain.” The image shifts to a young human sitting with several children on a Menthiopod station. “They will survive for at least a generation, though my sight ends after the station jumps to the Andromeda galaxy.”
Vander’s form fluctuates almost like static. “Those on the dead planet will live a hard life.”
I focus the image to the one Lex reported was named Pickett, and the other humans on the bridge of their vessel. “I followed the projects as was requested. Only half made it to their destination. I saw the foundations of something that could be magnificent, but we will need to return to confirm.”
Vander pauses. “No need. I don’t believe there will be anything of value for us in this system.”
“If I may…”
The sigh. “I need you elsewhere.”
“Understood.” The image distorts and fades to Danica and Oren. Nothing I say will add anything to what Vander already knows. The machines are recovering from their injuries–both physical and otherwise. It will be some time before they will be ready to partake in another expedition.
“And then there’s Lex.”
The image disappears from the screen as I turn my attention back to them. “What do you plan on doing with her?”
“We will need to speak–her body failed and she should have expired.”
“But she didn’t.”
Vander’s form shifts to a generic humanoid shrouded in dark matter. “Exactly. It is an anomaly which needs to be addressed, but for now–a moment. There must be calm before chaos.”
“Of course, balance is eternal. I understand completely.”
With that, Vander fades beyond the visual spectrum and I am left alone. Behind me is a solar system which will be unrecognizable in less than a century. This is us–Zpectrites. Another chapter has been recorded. What happens next will be one more branch on the web. It has the signs of a splinter and because of this, I can’t help but wonder if it will be something new. I haven’t seen anything new in a long time.
Maybe–just maybe–when the quiet comes again, it will be beautiful.
1
THE CONDITIONS OF SURVIVAL
WE ARE ALL BORN TO BECOME CITIZENS.
The door is latched shut from the other side. I don’t know why I was expecting anything different. One by one,, each compartment lights up and I find myself ducking down to avoid being seen by one of the machines. The gears torque into place as the train starts moving. Rain crashes down against my visor. I quickly unravel the rope clipped to the back of my belt.
“Piper, you need to find something to anchor yourself to.” My headset crackles just loud enough to be heard.
I take a deep breath and start tying the end of the rope to one of the rail guides between the cars. “Always telling me the obvious.”
There is a brief moment of static free silence before Robbie speaks again. “Faster, Piper. The train is cycling its tracks.”
I can hear the doors to the caboose open behind me.
Obvious or not, he’s right.
One loud whistle echoes through the air as I brace myself for takeoff. I’ve only seen this thing fly; I’ve never been on it myself. The electricity surges through the rails as the train rolls forward, gradually building its speed.
“Piper, are you secured?”
I look down at my boots digging into the narrow metal platform.
I hope so. I really do.
Then the wind hits me.
I should have attached another harness.
My father used to tell me how the world looked different when it was seen through the reflection of a rear-view mirror. It was as if the growing distance distorted the path you had just come from, and made the sight of where you were going that much more appealing.
Of all the ancient vehicles that have survived the harsh corrosion of time, this one is the most dangerous. This one demands its presence in the sky.
“Piper—”
The train jerks upwards and follows its rail into the sky. I hit the side of the car and watch as my visor plummets to the ground below. The rain mixes with the wind and stings as it hits me in the face.
I just need to hold on.
The storm will pass.
Won’t it?
Every citizen has a duty to contribute to the growth of their city.
“We have just received word; the MagTrain will be arriving in MagHaven in one fortnight. Please prepare. The selection process has begun.” The council message echoed through the city speakers. There wasn’t a screen in MagHaven that didn’t talk about the train. This was, after all, the validation of every citizen’s worth. The announcement was enough to drive several people outside who were hoping to catch a glimpse of the rail tracks as they extended from RigMire. RigMire, the city built by our ancestors which loomed in the sky above MagHaven. Father said it was built to accommodate our growing population. Only those from MagHaven who proved their societal worth were eligible for a ticket on the train.
“It’s coming. The train is coming. Can you see it?” The woman next to me screamed, gave me an impromptu hug, and then proceeded to wipe her tear stained cheeks on my shoulder. She mumbled she was happy; that this time it was her turn to leave.
It wouldn’t be her turn.
There were unspoken rules about who was eligible for a ticket.
“I’m going to prepare. You should too.” As she disappeared down the street, I knew that her hope was misplaced. In a city of over a million, only a handful ever got tickets.
Those odds didn’t look that great.
Those who fulfill their duty are destined to be rewarded.
I haven’t seen my father in twenty years; not since he boarded the MagTrain with his own ticket. We said our goodbyes and hugged, hoping that we would see each other again in the future. He was a young scientist who’d shown his value and earned his ticket before most. Everything is left up to the algorithm.
“Piper, are you alright?” The headset crackles. Robbie’s voice is muffled amidst the weather.
I swear the rain is cutting me, but then again it might just be the chill in the air. “I’ve been better.”
The train jerks again and I find myself slipping off the platform. The angle is gradually becoming steep. I need to find a way inside. I reach down and pull a small blade from my boot. My hands are shaking. The cabin of the train lights up as I dig the edge of the knife into the locking valve. Nothing happens. This is pointless.
“Robbie, I don’t know how to get inside.” The knife falls, and I find myself gripping the rope on my belt.
When I think of the events which led me to this moment I can’t help but shake my head at how arrogant I was. To think that I could earn a ticket as early as my father had. They say MagHaven is a paradise. Everyone must earn their citizenship. I haven’t earned mine.
Maybe I should have waited.
Rewards are judged and recognized by the algorithm.
“Are you sure about this, Piper? I can’t even begin to tell you how dangerous this idea is.” Always stating the obvious.
I sat at the table with a plate of untouched food getting colder and colder with each passing second. “I am. I want to do it.”
Everything in that house was white, spotless, and in its perfect place. My father was a meticulous man whose life goal was to change the world. So general, so unoriginal, and yet if there was anyone in RigMire who could have done it, it was him.
“But should you?”
Robbie was my father’s greatest creation, an evolving mainframe integrated into our family’s home. The ultimate caregiver. Without him I would have been alone. As I sat, barely poking my perfectly cooked eggs, Robbie sent thought waves through the circuitry embedded in the walls. The washing machine kicks in just as the dishwasher stops.
“You need to show some patience. The contribution requirement obviously hasn’t been met if you haven’t been offered a ticket.” The screen in front of me activated and a thin soundwave appeared, mimicking Robbie’s voice. “Your time will come.”
One of the egg yolks broke from the pressure of my fork. It was odd to me how one small puncture could compromise the integrity of an entire structure. “I’m not an inventor like Dad was. No contribution I’ll ever make will be good enough.”
I was an artist.
Changing the world was the last thing on my mind.
The algorithm gives recognition to those who are willing to make a difference.
“Piper, you’re at the outskirts of my sensor range. Say something.”
There is no more rain.
I open my eyes only to be met with a light brighter than anything I had seen before. “I think I can see the sun.”
My lower back aches as I struggle to sit upright against the train as the vehicle begins to level off. A loud bang echoes from one of the front cars, then another, and another. Each bang carries onward like a chain reaction. I cover my ears as the bang erupts from the compartment I’m tied to and then carries onward to the caboose.
“Robbie, do you know what’s happening?” Silence. “Robbie?”
I look up only to see that the train has stopped. For a long moment there is nothing. Then the banging cycles through each car again. I hold on and wait for the loud noise, but there isn’t one. Instead, however, there is a scream. It is faint and muffled, but it is there. I look through the porthole as the bang continues.
Why was there a delay?
The door to the car unlatches and swings open without warning. I take a deep breath, unhook the rope, and pull myself inside. Gravity slowly pulls the door shut behind me.
To make a difference one needs ambition.
“We all exist to strive for greatness. Look past yourself and see the bigger picture. The steps we take forward should grow not just ourselves, but our entire city as well.” My father was a charismatic man. When he spoke, people listened. “That is why today I have but one thing to show you all. This invention will change the world. I call it the synthesizer. This is the first step to eliminating any threat of food shortage.” A machine that could rearrange atoms to change the properties of one thing and turn it into another. Corn was the easiest to manipulate at the genetic level. Almost all the city’s meat came from corn after that.
Every year I watched his recorded presentation preserved on Robbie’s hard drive. It was the moment the algorithm was satisfied and he earned his ticket. I mean no one knew for sure, but it must have been. Robbie said that the invention didn’t really solve any food shortages. After all, it only changed one thing into something else.
It is impossible to create something from nothing.
But what was created was something that the world had never seen before. I remember sitting at the table, hands covered in paint and charcoal, when my father came home and told me. He was to leave with all the others. I didn’t understand what was happening then, but Robbie eventually explained it to me.
Ambition is the fuel which drives innovation.
I take a moment to gather myself before taking in my surroundings. The door opened, but there isn’t anyone here on the other side. I walk forward into a compartment of tables and fancy chairs. The smell of pot roast fills the air. At each setting sits plates of half mutilated vegetables, meat coated in gravy and silverware resting haphazardly on the tables. Some are overturned, staining the cream coloured table cloths while others sit perfectly untouched.
Where is everyone?
“Robbie, please tell me you can hear me.” Still, there is only silence. “There isn’t anyone here.”
The cabin lights up as soon as I touch one of the chairs.
“Good evening, passengers. MagTrain Delta is set to dock in approximately fifteen minutes. Please take this time to finish your meal and then take your seat in the rear cabin vault. Remember, each seat is designated by ticket number. If you have not already done so, please sign the required consent forms. This document is necessary to enter the city of MagHaven.” The voice is loud and clearly computer generated.
At the very back of the cabin is a large metal door slightly ajar from its frame. Something doesn’t feel right. I look back where I came and see nothing but sunlight through the porthole of the door. Who let me in here?
“Welcome aboard, may I please see your ticket?”
I turn back and see a man, dressed in red, with a whistle around his neck. His image fluctuates and adopts a faint blue hue. “A hologram?”
He bows. “At your service, ma’am.”
The rules are simple; to be a citizen one must earn their ticket.
I don’t have one.
“There must be some mistake.” I clear my throat. “I’ve already presented my ticket.”
“This vessel’s log shows otherwise.”
A loud bang echoes from one of the cars ahead of this one.
The hologram doesn’t move.
It stares at me like a dog would its master.
Innovation is impossible without sacrifice.
I’d watched as people boarded the train a couple times before. There are always at least a couple hundred of them. This time, the moment the final whistle blew and the wheels started rolling, I started running. As I ran, I thought of my father. Maybe he would be disappointed.
